


Fondness Robotic

by embarrassing old stuff from LJ pre-2015 (prevaricator)



Series: NEWS Robots AU [1]
Category: NewS (Band)
Genre: M/M, Probably ooc, Robot Yamapi and Shige
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-05
Updated: 2011-02-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 19:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10556764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prevaricator/pseuds/embarrassing%20old%20stuff%20from%20LJ%20pre-2015
Summary: AU. Yamapi's lack of expression makes him a failure as a model, but a student researcher gives him a second chance at life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Repost from LJ

**Title:** Fondness Robotic  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairing:** Koyama+Shige+Yamapi  
**Warnings:** Robot Yamapi and Shige, probably OOC  
**Word count:** 1506  
**Summary:** AU. Yamapi's lack of expression makes him a failure as a model, but a student researcher gives him a second chance at life.  
A/N: I drabbled part of this at [](http://sanjihan.livejournal.com/profile)[**sanjihan**](http://sanjihan.livejournal.com/) earlier, but I felt guilty because it made no sense that way. For [](http://carmine-pink.livejournal.com/profile)[**carmine_pink**](http://carmine-pink.livejournal.com/) because I coerced RoboPi fic out of her. >_> Definition of want from Merriam Webster.

  
“He's good looking, but he doesn't have any _emotion_ ,” the designer, Masuda, says. “Who wants to buy clothes when the model looks so dull?”

The photographer and the designer's assistant, Tegoshi, both nod.

“His facial expressions aren't very convincing,” Tegoshi says. “I think we should go back to hiring human models.”

The robot, Yamashita Tomohisa, nicknamed Yamapi by his manufacturer, stands alert, awaiting instruction. He hears the words, but only processes them enough to determine that they are not commands. The humans in front of him continue discussing.

“But what do we do with him?” Masuda gestures at Yamapi, making an expression thatYamapi's system cannot read.

“I think Koyama was looking for unwanted robots or something. For his professor,” Tegoshi says.

Masuda's expression is “interested.” He tells Tegoshi to call and ask.

 

 

Two hours and nineteen minutes later, the man named Koyama and his professor arrive at the studio to examine Yamapi.

“He doesn't have much processing power,” The professor says. “His comprehension skills are lacking. And next to no networking capabilities.”

“Even including the cost of a new processor, he's cheaper than a new robot,” Koyama replies. “And we don't really need networking.”

The professor nods. “We'll take him,” he says to Masuda.

There is an exchange of money, and then the professor commands Yamapi to follow him.

Yamapi is shut down for the next two weeks.

 

 

The next time he's powered up, his system has changed significantly. Drivers must be being installed, files updated, but he is scarcely aware of it.

But he is aware. He feels “strange.” His is not certain what “aware” and “feels” mean, except that he is the former and he does the latter. “Strange” is a quality of “feeling” of some sort.

Koyama walks in, trailed by another person, perhaps a robot. He starts speaking, and this time Yamapi comprehends the words, even though they are not commands.

“How do you feel?” Koyama asks, staring at him.

“I feel strange,” Yamapi answers.

“Good, you're feeling!” Koyama taps at the tablet computer in his arm. “Don't worry, feeling strange is perfectly normal. We've given you a new processor, and installed a new operating system. This operating system works much more like a human mind than your last one, so it will take some getting used to.”

Although he understands the words, the concepts are foreign. Yamapi's head feels rather swirly. His head. Not his processor, not his hard drive, not his motherboard. His head. He can still feel his hardware, but he's rather distanced from it.

“Like a human mind?” Yamapi asks. “Why?”

He's a computer, essentially. He exists to perform tasks. Why should he think like a human? What did that even mean?

“Research,” Koyama says. “We simply want to see if it's possible. Computers could be much more useful if they understand how humans think.”

He pauses and grabs the man who'd followed him in. “For example, Shige here is a reference assistant. He's designed to help people find information, with top of the line natural language capabilities to help people who have trouble with normal search engines. He can choose the correct synonyms for words to use in searches. But he doesn't understand what people want, or how they feel, or really how they work. Computers don't have any wants, they don't have free will. Or any will, really. They just process.”

“What are wants?” Yamapi asks.

“Want,” Shige says. “intransitive verb; 1: to be needy or destitute 2: to have or feel need 3: to be necessary or needed 4: to desire to come, go, or be .”

“I don't understand,” Yamapi says. Because he doesn't.

Nor does he understand Shige's definition of “free will” and “will.”

From the look on Shige's face, he thinks that Shige does not understand, either.

Koyama looks from one to the other. His facial expression Yamapi recognizes as “worried.”

“I think it's something you need to experience to understand. Your new operating systems should help you with that. Anyway, let's go home. You two will be staying with me for now. Follow me,” he adds with a smile.

Yamapi does so immediately, but Shige pauses. “Doesn't this free will mean that I do not have to follow you, if I do not wish to?”

Koyama's face drops in “horror,” then rearranges itself into an “interested” expression. “If you don't want to follow me, then what do you want to do?”

Shige's face looks “confused,” and Yamapi wonders if he feels the emotion, or if his programming just makes him do that. Then he wonders how he can wonder that. Why he wonders. He gets rather caught up in the wondering, to the point that he almost misses Shige's response.

“I do not know,” Shige says. “What would happen if I did not follow you?”

“Nothing you'd like,” Koyama says. “And I'd be screwed. It's best for both of us if you just come with me.”

When Shige acquiesces, Yamapi has this strange feeling like something heavy he's been carrying has been removed from him. It must be an effect of the new operating system, like everything else. The same part of him that has been categorizing emotions all this time calls it “relief.”

 

 

Over the next few weeks, Shige shows an intense curiosity over everything, testing limits and demanding answers to things. Yamapi spends much time simply feeling confused. Koyama spends a lot of time looking “thoughtful.” He says that maybe they are displaying personality, or maybe Yamapi isn't handling the new operating system as well as Shige, thanks to his inferior hardware.

One day, though, Koyama picks up a pen that Yamapi left on the table, a drawing he'd abandoned on the floor, and looks at them thoughtfully. “That just can't be anything to do with hardware. How can a computer be absent-minded?” he says, mostly to himself.

To Yamapi he says, “How many times have I told you to put pencils pack in the drawer and not leave stuff where people can step on it?”

In the past, Yamapi would have given him an exact number. Now he doesn't know. He remembers it happening before, now that Koyama has brought it to his attention, but it was nowhere in his consciousness when he'd been drawing and got up to check on Koyama's pizza and never went back to drawing.

This “forgetting” business is “uncomfortable,” he thinks.

Still, he does not experience any “wants.” He has no “desires.” He chooses from tasks that Koyama lists in the hope of developing “will,” but it doesn't happen for weeks.

 

When it happens, it's because Koyama spills some coffee on his shirt and goes to throw it in the wash. He walks back into the room shirtless, and for the first time Yamapi feels this thing called “wanting” that Koyama keeps going on about.

He has an urge to reach out and touch. It makes no sense – Koyama's skin is just skin. Yamapi may not have all of Shige's reference tools at his fingertips, but he knows that all humans have skin, that his is designed to feel just like skin.

But he has this urge to feel it. He's never had an urge before. So he reaches out and traces one bicep with his finger.

Koyama yelps in surprise and backs away, “What are you doing?”

The expression on his face is some combination of “frightened” and “confused.” Yamapi thinks he feels “confused,” himself.

“I want to touch you,” Yamapi says.

“So do I!” Shige pipes in from the couch.

Koyama gasps and claps his hands. “Finally! Yamapi wants to do something!”

There's a strange little shiver that runs through Yamapi's stomach when he hears that, but he's preoccupied with this wanting to touch Koyama thing. He tries to go back to doing it, but Koyama grabs his hand.

“Yamapi, you can't just go around touching people because you want to,” he admonishes. “They might not want to be touched. You should get permission, first.”

Yamapi processes this. “Okay, can I touch you?”

Koyama just stares, then sighs. “I guess, since it's the first thing you've wanted to do. Go ahead.”

Yamapi is poking at Koyama's pectorals, when Shige gets off the couch and edges toward them. “Koyama, can I touch you, too?”

Koyama's face now shows that complex emotion known as “exasperation,” but he permits Shige to touch him, as well.

Though he does tell Shige to shut up when he starts reading out an encyclopedia entry on human skin. Apparently humans find the technicalities of their bodies somewhat disturbing.


End file.
